


destiny's sweet kiss

by yaskiers



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Song: Her Sweet Kiss (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskiers/pseuds/yaskiers
Summary: But as it always seemed to be, in the great ballads and stories, there was so much more to their tale than simple death, heroics and heartbreak.There had also been destiny.(Based on the idea that the "Her" in Her Sweet Kiss isn't Geralt or Yennefer. It is destiny)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	destiny's sweet kiss

**Author's Note:**

> for brooke, lila and ant <3

Jaskier knew, of course, the assumptions people made. The whispers followed him, murmuring voices which didn’t even have the decency to quiet when he entered the room.  _ The lovesick bard, _ they would say.  _ Who was thrown aside by a witcher- a  _ monster _ \- without a second thought.  _

And perhaps he had been.

But as it always seemed to be, in the great ballads and stories, there was so much  _ more _ to their tale than simple death, heroics and heartbreak. Not that there had been a great shortage, of course. 

There had also been destiny. Jaskier had always believed in destiny, if only minutely. Destiny, which had entwined itself so fiercely in Geralt’s heart, that his fear of it had turned him into someone who Jaskier could hardly recognize.

No, Jaskier had not written  _ Her Sweet Kiss _ about Yennefer, nor Geralt, for that matter. For the true villain of their story, he thought, was destiny. Or Geralt’s attempts to avoid it. Maybe they were the same thing.

The great Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, the famed White Wolf. Defeated by his own terror at the hands of destiny, whose existence he had denied so vehemently. It was almost poetic, in a horrible, saddening way. 

( _ The fairer sex, they often call it. But her love’s as unfair as a crook- _

_ It steals all my reason, commits every treason. Of logic, with naught but a look…) _

Destiny is fair, they would say, priests trying to absolve the rich and blind of their own sins, mothers comforting their children, teachers giving out a warning, kings inspiring their men. But destiny was never fair, was it? 

Was it fair to tie Yennefer of Vengerberg, a woman so free in her own power, to Geralt?

Was it fair, to hand over a child ( _ doom _ , others would say) to a Witcher, to be given to a life on the Continent?

Was it fair for Geralt to blame his inability to escape destiny’s call on Jaskier?

( _ A storm breaking on the horizon, of longing and heartache and lust. _

_ She’s always bad news, it’s always lose,  _ lose

_ So tell me love, tell me love-  _ how is that just _?) _

A part of him, Jaskier thought, had known even before the banquet, that something would go wrong. Something always did, didn’t it?

Every mention of destiny, even the slightest hint of a whisper, had always brought them bad luck. Or perhaps, their bad luck had brought the mention of destiny.

He doubted that they (Geralt, really, but he would always be by Geralt’s side, even when he wasn’t wanted) would ever be truly free. 

( _ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss. _

_ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss…) _

Valdo Marx had once lent him a book of poetry, during his time at Oxenfurt. He remembered it like it was yesterday, the way that the rain had poured loudly and harshly, the air relaxed and warm,  _ safe _ almost, in a way that he realized he hadn’t felt in years. 

Because he had felt safe with Geralt, no matter how the air felt, or how loudly the rain poured. 

His favorite of the poems, he could remember so clearly even now, had told the story of fate’s kiss, bestowed upon a young servant, who had given everything for the prince he had been destined to serve. Fate’s kiss.  _ Destiny’s  _ kiss. What had seemed like a romantic blessing, at the time, had ended as a nightmare, with tears and death and the (almost broken) promise of a happy future. 

Her sweet kiss, indeed.

( _ Her current is pulling you closer, and charging the hot, humid night. _

_ The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool- _

_ Better stay out of sight…) _

He had seen it, hadn’t he? How Geralt, his best friend- the one he  _ loved- _ had been so consumed by his fear, in destiny pulling him closer and closer until he had felt so trapped. And when Geralt felt trapped, he lashed out. So the story had always gone, and so the story would always go.

And all Jaskier had done was watch.

Had there been a warning? Some sign he could have noticed? 

( _ I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting _

_ If this is the path I must trudge,  _

_ I’ll welcome my sentence-  _

_ Give to you my penance, garroter, jury and judge…)  _

He thought back, to so long ago, that night before the banquet. He had told Geralt that someone out there would want them.

He hadn’t known it would be him.

And oh, how he  _ wanted _ . Simply to be back at Geralt’s side, for no matter how hard he could try to deceive himself, he missed his Witcher. Perhaps, if they had been connected by destiny, of all things, then their story could have a different ending. 

In a world of monsters and myths, when the two most powerful beings on the Continent were tied by fate, what use was his loyalty? 

He had no magic, or skill with a sword, or both.

He had a lute, and music, and tales which weren’t even true. And loyalty that Geralt had so easily discarded. Maybe a shared destiny could have changed his mind.

Though he knew it was pointless, he couldn’t help wishing. He would face a thousand judgements, welcome any consequence, if only to see him once more. 

_ (But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss _

_ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss…)  _

Perhaps the worst part was that he knew, that if he could turn back time like the fairytales said he could, to give himself another chance-

It would change nothing.

If there was one thing he had learned, it was that destiny would always find you. There was no escaping fate, or her sweet, sweet kiss.

( _ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss _

_ But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss…) _

Her Sweet Kiss became his most popular ballad. The courtiers loved it, whispering as he sang, casting knowing looks to each other. 

He even heard that Oxenfurt had added it to the curriculum, something about Alumni success, and that Valdo Marx had been furious.

The whole Continent believed that they knew his heart, for only Jaskier could be so transparent as to write a ballad of love for a witcher and a sorceress, the witcher who had broken his heart. 

Jaskier knew the truth, and he thought, by Yennefer’s expression when she saw him at the ball, some years later, that perhaps she did too.

  
( _ The story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss) _

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this is basically just a more in depth analysis than what i wrote on twitter last night with the bonus of yearning so :)
> 
> this is by no means me trying to tell anyone how Her Sweet Kiss should be interpreted, as that is 100% up to you! I just thought this was an interesting concept to think of haha. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading, as always; comments are so appreciated (let me know what you think!) and say hi on tumblr or twitter @trissifer <3


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